My Subconscious Mind Starts Spinning Through Time
by the sound of
Summary: Set in episode 5x08. Meredith/Sadie; femslash. Derek may think that the two of them kill things over and over, but they've got nothing on Death and Die.


Meredith thinks that it's probably too early in the morning for this kind of catastrophic regression, but honestly, she's far too turned on to care.

Sadie's mouth is hot on her throat and Meredith's thighs are trembling under the ministrations of her icy fingers, softly stroking her slickened skin with knowing precision. There's a heat building low in her belly that's never fully burnt out and cornsilk curls tickle her collarbone as Sadie moves to kiss her properly, tongue and all, and it's all so reminiscent of the years before that Meredith is having trouble breathing through the thick haze of lust that's set the world ablaze.

It's Europe all over again, the visceral thrill of fucking against club walls washed in the flourescence of strobe lights that throb in time with racing hearts, drink and drugs and adrenaline scorching through veins and flying so fucking high that crashing back down to earth seems a distant impossibility.

Meredith arches against Sadie's hand as it slips beneath her underwear and moves hard and rough and fast against her, and Meredith bites down hard on Sadie's lip and slides sure fingers into wet warmth in retaliation. Their kiss turns hungry and open-mouthed as arousal grows electric, threatening to explode in a rush of fireworks and heat.

(It's Paris, watching the sun rise over the mountains and colour the world red with the first rays of light as Sadie presses kisses to her neck from behind and slides a hand down her stomach, still buzzing from that night's narcotics.

It's Rome, the venomous and prejudiced whispers they'd encountered in St. Peter's Square drowned out by the pounding bass shaking the walls of Qube as people of all sexualities gyrate to the music, Sadie's first genuine smile of the day smoothing into a smirk as she pulls Meredith flush against her.

It's Madrid, stretched out on beaches with dangerous amounts of skin on show, Meredith's neon pink hair almost painful to look at in the midday sun, shielding them from the world as she pins Sadie to her beach towel, fingers threaded together and smiling into their searing kiss.

It's Amsterdam, fraught with tears and heartbreak and the end of something they'd sworn would last a lifetime.)

Meredith comes first, and somehow manages to keep her hand moving even as every muscle in her body is sent into spasm and pleasure roars up her spine until she nearly blacks out at the force of it. Sadie tightens around her seconds later, and Meredith swallows her shuddering euphoria in a fierce kiss as Sadie collapses on top of her in a trembling mess of ecstasy.

The kiss doesn't break, and the longer it lasts, the sharper the taste of salt is on Meredith's tongue, and the more her eyes sting with the tears Sadie can't hold back. Meredith's hand fumbles in the twisted sheets for Sadie's hand, and their fingers lock together so tightly there's no room for letting go, and it's getting harder and harder to breathe but still their mouths press together to prolong the inevitable.

When it ends, the finality hits with a poignancy that takes Meredith's breath away; all the years spent inbetween were fractured with forced smiles and desperate fucks after too much tequila, before estrangement set in and they existed on opposite sides of the world, without an end or goodbye, and this closure has been a long time coming.

Sadie's eyes are bright and wide, glassy with grief, and it's almost enough to make Meredith forget that Derek is downstairs.

(Almost, but not quite, and she loves him, she does, and Derek may think that the two of them kill things over and over, but they've got nothing on Death and Die.)

"I missed you," Meredith says, touching her free hand to Sadie's cheek, because it's the truth and she can't not say it, not when Sadie's breathing is dangerously uneven, exactly as it was that night ten summers ago. Meredith still remembers every razor-edged word, every screaming obscenity, every second of the splintering in her chest as they burned bridges and broke each other.

(She still remembers Sadie's face, like she'd been cut open and chewed up and spat out; there's a picture perfect replica in her line of sight to remind her.)

Sadie tries a smirk and almost pulls it off, but it stretches her face too wide and her eyelashes are still wet with tears and Meredith knows her far too well to fall for it. "Yeah? Even with the hot boyfriend hanging around?"

This is Sadie avoiding, and Meredith's been there so she gets it, and the hollow look on Sadie's face stems from being the one left behind, the one who can't move on, the one who's still stuck ten years in the past and falling apart at the seams because of it. It's an ending for both of them, but Meredith is the only one with a new beginning; Sadie is stranded in a sea of solitude, anchored to the seabed and fighting to stay afloat.

Who knew closure was so fucking hard?

"Yes," Meredith answers, the word falling like a sigh from her lips, soothing some of the hurt in Sadie's chest. "Always."

It's not enough to fix anything, or erase their mistakes, but it makes Sadie smile like maybe she believes her, and Meredith smiles back reflexively.

They're not fixed, but maybe they're not broken, either, and maybe it's safe in the inbetween. Maybe it's where they're meant to be.


End file.
